


Unfriendly Faces

by a_mess



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andreil, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Violence, POV Neil Josten, Slight Mention of Blood, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, a little bit of nightmares, a little hurt/comfort, andrew helps him shave, fucking domestic I know, neil cant look in the mirror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mess/pseuds/a_mess
Summary: Neil has never had a positive relationship with his reflection.Neil has trouble looking in the mirror to shave, and does it blind cutting himself a dozen times. The next time he needs to shave, Andrew decides to do it for him. Super Domestic I Know.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 21
Kudos: 342





	Unfriendly Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this between the hours of 2 and 3 am and it has not been beta-d so please be kind HA. I also have never written an AFTG fic before so I hope it is good. I thought of this idea of Andrew helping Neil shave because he can't look in the mirror and haven't stopped thinking about it so I just had to write it. Enjoy!

Neil had never had a very positive relationship with his reflection. 

His auburn-colored hair and ice cold blue eyes made sure he never much liked to look in the mirror. He didn’t so much mind looking like he did unless he was confronted with it head on. Any glimpse of his reflection and he was no longer _Neil Josten, #10, starting striker for the Palmetto State Foxes_ , but his father. He was Neil Josten only until the second his eyes met his own in the mirror; then, he was Nathan Wesninski, ready with his cleaver in hand to make sure Neil wasn’t getting away so easily this time. He was the Butcher of Baltimore, right hand man to the Moriyamas. He was cold. Detached. Looking for vengeance. 

Most of the time, Neil could get away without catching his gaze in the mirror. He could slide his eyes right over it without ever really registering it as there. He was good at averting his eyes as he opened the passenger door to Andrew’s maserati. His eyes trained above the car and not at the window left little chance of him staring his father down in the glass. He could look through the plexiglass walls of the court with ease seeing as he’d need to focus his gaze to catch his reflection in it. 

He knew what he looked like all too well, he didn’t need the reminder. He didn’t often need to look in the mirror anyway. When he woke up in the morning he could run his hands through his hair and fix it well enough. If he couldn’t, it didn’t matter anyway. Allison would always comment on it at practice and fix it for him despite his protests he had no one to impress (“keep telling yourself that and then remind me to take a picture of your face the next time the monster walks by you.”)

The one thing he couldn’t get around was shaving. He had to shave. Every time he woke up in the morning and felt some stubble on his face he would compulsively get ready to shave it off. Leftover sentiment from a life on the run; beards were too distinctive a physical trait. His mother drilled it into him that a clean shaven face was less eye-catching. It didn’t matter if the razor was old and rusting a little because they were nowhere near any place to buy a new one. He had to shave. 

Though Andrew would scoff and get angry with him if he knew the reason for Neil’s constant clean-shaven face, he found it was hard to not do. 

On good days, he could stand in front of the mirror and train his eyes only on the lower half of his face. Enough control to keep from straying up and catching his father’s frosted eyes. He would get the job done as quickly as possible and then head out before he would catch himself looking up. 

On bad days, he could barely hold the razor. He would look down at the sink until he could garner enough constraint to shave and leave safely. Sometimes it would take 15 minutes just to open the shaving cream. Others he would have to do it in shifts to get it all done. 

He’d faced worse than looking in the mirror. Logically, he knew that. But the worst he’d faced was because of who was looking out of the mirror, and that simply was too much of a reminder. 

On this Wednesday morning, Neil stood in the bathroom staring at the sink and the shaving cream and his razor and was simply not having it. He had had too many nightmares in the coming days and was not in any state to look himself—his father—in the eyes. He knew he had been able to control himself plenty of times before now to avoid the eye contact, but he didn’t think he trusted himself enough to do it this morning. 

After a half an hour of standing in the bathroom, he decided he would try again tomorrow. It wasn’t a big deal he told himself. You’re going to be late for morning practice he reasoned. 

Plus, the thin hair on his chin was light enough in its sparsity that you couldn’t really see it unless you looked. 

He doubted anyone would notice. 

He went to morning practice all the same. Things went as normally as he could’ve expected. Kevin was in a pissy mood at the lack of energy from his teammates seemingly forgetting they had only been awake for an hour. Nicky was too happy too early in the morning. Aaron was bitter. Andrew was non-verbal and non-enthusiastic—which only pissed Kevin off more. Allison was as put together as always, and Dan, Matt, and Renee looked tired but were doing their best to participate—ever the good sports. 

Neil pushed through it like he did every morning, but with less sleep than usual. He could feel Andrew’s eyes on the back of his jersey and his sleep depravity wanted to shout that he was fine, but he knew that wouldn’t go over well. 

They finished up, showered, and dressed for the school day before saying temporary goodbyes until afternoon practice later on. 

Neil suffered through a physics lab and an advanced calculus course before going back to his room and trying to catch up on some sleep before afternoon practice. 

He laid in bed with his eyes closed but didn’t seem to get any closer to being asleep. Getting more and more annoyed by the minute though stubbornly still hoping for sleep, he didn’t move again until the door opened.

He sat up although he knew who it would be. Kevin and Nicky both had classes right up until practice on Wednesdays, and Andrew always returned early enough to go with Neil. 

“Hey.” Neil said, watching Andrew drop his bag by his bed and take off his black sweatshirt to reveal—shocker—an even blacker T-shirt underneath. 

“Did you sleep?” Andrew asked, throwing his sweatshirt on his loft.

“Yes.” Neil said, finally making eye contact with Andrew. 

“Lair.” He replied. 

Neil almost rolled his eyes but settled for shrugging and looking away instead. He didn’t know being understood would be so annoying until Andrew started using it to take care of him. He was fine. 

Andrew walked closer to Neil's bed and stopped in front of it; glancing down and then glancing back up at Neil, he caught the question he was asking. 

“Yes.” Neil said and moved letting Andrew climb over him to his spot against the wall. 

Neil laid back down facing Andrew and returned the eye contact. 

“Sleep,” Andrew started “you have an hour until practice.” 

Neil sighed but wasn’t in the position to argue against it considering how tired he’d been. Plus, it had been his idea to sleep before practice anyway, he just hated that now someone else had to tell him to do it. 

Neil nodded, but first he asked “Yes or no?” 

“Yes.”

Neil leaned forward and kissed Andrew once, quickly, before pulling back and settling himself again to try and sleep. 

Before he could, Andrew reached a hand out, stopping right before Neil's face. He nodded, and Andrew felt the skin under his cheek, by his chin; no doubt feeling the slight stubble on Neil’s face. 

Andrews eyes narrowed slightly in a look that Neil knew meant he was figuring him out. Not wanting to be seen and desperately wanting to catch up on sleep, Neil closed his eyes to avoid Andrews gaze and found that this time, he was able to drift off. 

———————————

Andrew said “Neil” to wake him up when it was time to head out to practice. 

The night went rather quickly after that; practice was the same as always. The cousins, Kevin, and Neil got dinner on the way back and then it was homework for some and video games for others until lights were going out across all of Fox Tower, and they individually headed off to bed. 

Neil didn’t have to ask Andrew to come back to his bed so that he’d be able to sleep. He looked at him as he was coming into the room to go to bed and Andrew had simply nodded in return before joining him. They laid down much as they did earlier that day; Andrew with his back to the wall and Neil facing him. 

Neil put his hand in the middle between them and Andrew lay his own on top of Neil's, and he got his first good night’s sleep in days. 

———————————

It made no difference. 

Neil woke up in the morning and repeated the struggle of working up the nerve to look up and shave. He stood there, grasping the bottle of shaving cream with a white-knuckled grip but still refusing to open it and use it. 

_You can look in the mirror._ He thought to himself. _You were on the run with your mother for years; living out of motels and the backseats of cars and bus stations. You faced your father and his men and lived. You beat Riko Moriyama. You are Neil Josten, #10 starting striker for the Palmetto State Foxes._

_You can look in the goddamned mirror._

But he couldn’t. He could repeat it as many times as he wanted, but eventually he wasn’t even sure why he was in the bathroom. He might not have even been aware he was _in_ the bathroom. He couldn’t even tell he was still holding the shaving cream, which is probably why it fell out of his hand and bounced off the sink with a resounding _clink!_

He snapped out of and stumbled back a little. Breathing once, twice, three times, he picked the canister up, put it back on the counter, and left the bathroom. 

Getting in the car on the way to practice he glanced down slightly to look in the window at his reflection; enough to see his chin and that’s all. He could see that the facial hair was definitely more obvious now, and it didn’t look good. He didn’t mean by ways of attractiveness; he meant it didn’t look even. Never having been allowed to grow it out before, the hair on his chin was growing patchy and uneven. He grimaced but got in the car and refused to look further. 

Practice went terribly because it just wasn’t his fucking morning and Neil was relieved the second it ended. He waited to shower last because he didn’t have class till late and walked, refreshed and reclothed, back to his locker to found Andrew, the lone occupier of the locker room, sitting on the bench, idly thumbing a knife. 

Neil continued to his locker and gathered his things while Andrew watched and waited for him to be ready. 

Neil turned to him, bag in hand, and asked Andrew a ‘yes or no’ before they were going to start walking. 

He saw something change in Andrew’s eyes and knew a ‘no’ before he heard it. 

“No,” Andrew said. Neil nodded and re-shouldered his bag, but before he could turn to walk out, Andrew continued. “Not until you shave.” He sounded as bored as always, but Neil knew a taunt when he heard one. 

He did turn away now. “Ha ha.” he said and started walking for the door, not checking for Andrew behind him, just knowing he’d be there. 

Andrew wasn’t just kidding that once, though; Neil asked once again later on before bed and Andrew repeated the same response. Scoffing himself now, Neil went to sleep slightly uneasy about having to wake up tomorrow and battle his reflection again. 

———————————

Neil did shave the next day, but he did so without looking in the mirror once. Tiny knicks and cuts while shaving felt like nothing compared to the slice of Riko’s knives. The burn of Lola’s lighter; a gunshot to his shoulder. 

He could handle a few shaving knicks. 

And a few he had. He had cut himself probably around eight to twelve times while shaving that morning, refusing to give in and look in the mirror. He felt like he was an early teen again, just learning to shave and feeling annoyed at having wanted to be grown up now that he knew what it would be like. 

He ignored the burn of his aftershave and the extra sting of all his little cuts and got ready for practice. Andrew—always the last to wake up, as in, the least to care about practice—looked at Neil once and immediately raised both eyebrows in a sort of way that Neil knew was calling him an idiot. He shook his head and Andrew’s gaze and got in the car to head to practice. 

His face this time though, didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team. 

“God, Neil, I thought we were done seeing your all face cut-up” Allison said, reaching out a hand to turn his chin one direction and then the next. 

“Allison.” Renee softly said, clearly stating there was probably another way that could have been phrased. 

“Come on,” Allison ignored her comment and said. “Are you seeing this?” She waved over Dan and Matt. “You look like a twelve year old boy.”

Neil batted her hand away and said “Very funny.” He caught Andrew’s eyes to the left of him and the look he returned said _I told you so._

Matt laughed a little when he saw and said “Oh, buddy, what did you do?” 

Dan furrowed her brows a little, concerned but knowing when to end the conversation and hustled everyone into practice. 

———————————

On Fridays, Neil didn't actually have class. When he returned to the dorm, he savored being alone and did his best to clean up the cuts on his chin and jaw. He caught up on some homework, and hung out with Nicky when he came back from class.

That night, they made their usual trip to Columbia, and Neil spent most of the night at the table with Andrew while Nicky made a fool of himself and Kevin and Aaron each tried to beat the other into liver failure. 

Andrew asked “Are you going to tell me why it looks like you shaved blindfolded?” 

Neil thought _because I did,_ but only looked at Andrew and watched as he catalogued the moves of his family across the floor of Eden’s. He swallowed. 

“Fuck you.” he said. 

Andrew glanced at him then, clearly unimpressed. 

“No.” Neil tried again.

That wasn’t any better, but Andrew didn’t bring it up the rest of the night. 

———————————

Sunday morning Neil woke up and his face had healed just in time for him to need to shave again. He thought it had been enough time, surely this time he would be fine. 

He wasn’t.

For some reason, the build up between the last time he’d looked in the mirror to shave almost a week ago to now had made it exponentially worse. The lack of that minute exposure had made him almost forget what it was like to glance up and see his father's face. He’d felt extremely unprepared. 

It was like looking in the mirror in controlled small amounts was similar to building up immunity to a poison; you feed yourself small doses of poison at a time, upping it and upping it until eventually, you have an immunity. Neil would look in the mirror in a detached and controlled way every few days to shave, and he wouldn’t be as caught off guard the next time he accidentally saw his father's blue eyes meet his own. 

If you stop treating yourself to some poison, your immunity can weaken. Vanish. Cease to exist. 

Neil hadn’t looked in the mirror in quite a long time. 

He sat in the bathroom on the toilet seat waiting to see if he would suddenly develop the urge to stand up, face the mirror, and shave. 

He didn't. 

Being a Sunday and having nothing to do, his crowding the bathroom didn’t go unnoticed. 

After what might have been ten minutes—fifteen, twenty, twenty-five—a knock sounded on the door. 

“Neil.” Andrew said. “Yes or no.” 

“Yes.” Neil said, not moving from his space sitting on the toilet seat, still clutching his razor and the shaving cream. 

Andrew came in and took two seconds to analyze Neil, where he was sitting, what he was holding, and finally, the bathroom mirror. 

He shut and locked the door and then crouched in front of Neil. 

Making eye contact the whole time, he slowly took the shaving cream and razor out of Neil's hands and set them on the floor. Then he grabbed Neil's hands on his own. 

“Neil.” he said again. Neil’s eyes while having technically been making eye contact were somewhere farther away, and Andrew was calling them back to the present. “Neil Josten,” he said. 

Neil took in a breath, blinked a few times, and nodded at Andrew.

Andrew nodded back. 

He reached down and picked up the shaving cream and looked back at Neil. “Yes or no?” 

“Yes.” 

Andrew had him stand and lean against the sink, back to the mirror. He filled up the sink with water and set the razor down. Filling a hand with shaving cream, he began to spread it across the lower half of Neil’s face along his jaw and chin and the beginning of his neck. 

Neil stood still and stared at Andrew while he worked. He took in the way Andrew’s expression never changed from the usual bored look it held, but he catalogued the relaxation of his features; he knew the others wouldn’t be able to see it because Andrews' expression rarely gave anything away, but he knew Andrew’s tells were in the tension behind them rather than their arrangement. He could tell Andrew was comfortable right now, despite his touching Neil or the awkwardness you’d expect from shaving someone else. 

Neil thought distinctly that he didn’t feel awkward about it either. He felt more comfortable having Andrew shave him than he did having himself do it, at least in this moment. 

It was refreshing to Neil. To look back into eyes that weren’t cold and blue, but a nice soft hazel. He wasn’t afraid of looking into Andrew’s eyes like he was of his own. 

He realized Andrew was returning his stare when he noticed his eyes focus on Neil’s eyes and not lathering him with shaving cream. 

Andrew held up the razor in a silent question. _Is this still okay?_

Neil nodded. 

Andrew began to slowly shave the side of Neil's face in a gentle manner that would have surprised anyone else. Neil was done with feeling shocked at how gentle Andrew could be when he wanted to. The other foxes might never understand this; Andrew wasn’t naturally violent. Andrew’s defense mechanism was violence because it was what he’d been taught. 

Neil knew all about that. Neil was born from violence too. 

But he felt none of that now as Andrew held a razor to his face. 

Andrew who had once held a knife to his throat the second day they’d met in the elevator of Wymack’s apartment building. Andrew, who he’d seen hold countless knives to many people who _had_ done something to warrant—to Andrew at least—a violent response. 

The same Andrew who now held six razor blades against Neil to whom felt nothing at all. 

It wasn’t as hard to remain still as it had been the last time. All of the restless anxious energy had melted right out of him at the feeling of Andrew with one hand on his chin to steady him and the other guiding the razor. 

With all of that unease gone, Neil just felt _tired_. He actually had to stifle a yawn halfway through for which Andrew pinched his shoulder as both a punishment and a means to keep him awake. 

When Andrew was done, he grabbed a towel to wipe the excess shaving cream off of Neil's face and then applied his after shave. 

Finally, he cleaned up and then dropped his hands back to his sides.

Neil glanced down at Andrews hands and then back up to his eyes. 

“Yes.” Andrew said. 

Neil reached out with his right hand to grasp Andrew’s left and restored their eye contact. “Thank you.”

Andrew hummed a little in a practiced disinterested reply and used their joined hands to lead Neil back to their bedroom and to Andrew’s loft bed. He had planned on doing some homework, but it was a Sunday and he felt motivated to do absolutely nothing.

Feeling properly tired with the chance of actually sleeping for the first time in a while and with Andrew across from him, Neil finally felt able to rest. He rubbed his smooth face along the pillow and stared at Andrew until he fell into easy dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
